With or Without You
by TweetyPie85
Summary: What if Michaela hadn't simply accepted Sully's return home after the uprising but had made her inner most feelings known...
1. Chapter 1

**With or Without You**

_**Part 1:**_

"_Something happened here," she whispered, placing a hand gently against the pulse that raced against his chest, "but something…I've never thought that was possible, not after the things we said to each other."_

"_I meant all those things," he pleaded, burying her fingers in his even as she slipped away, "I still do."_

The memory rose before him as once again, the thin fingers pulled away from his grasp and with an almost dreamlike expression on his face he gazed first at his now empty hand and then at the pair of eyes before him, darkened with pain and glistening with unshed tears.

"Michaela…" he breathed yet the mere utterance of her name seemingly increased the distance between them, as though the privileges that intimacy engendered no longer belonged to him.

"Catherine…Daniel…the Indians…after I lost the baby…every time Sully, every time you walked away and left me behind, every time."

Her voice was soft but broke almost unwillingly beneath the strain of emotion hitherto kept under rigorous control. For so long, the battle to secure his freedom, to bring him back home to her had occupied her every waking moment and taken precedence over such trivialities as fear, anguish and sheer loneliness. Each morning had brought fresh hope, a promise of success and every night, as she snuffed out the lamp in the great emptiness of their bedroom, the thought of his warm hand reaching out to caress her cheek had dried the involuntary tears and lulled her into fitful slumber. Yet the man that had finally returned to claim his seat at the now laughter filled dinner table and bobbed Katie on his knee before the hearth was a stranger, bearing little resemblance to the gentle soul who with a single glance could read the inner musings of her heart as though they were inked in words across a page. A shadow had fallen between them, an impenetrable shroud that smothered the love which in its desperation to bridge the distance had turned futile, and untended, grown cold.

"But Michaela I was just…" he began moving towards her.

"I wasn't enough," she stated neutrally, the amber haze of the lamp waxing bright upon her pale, hollowed cheeks, "I never was."

"No, Michaela," he interjected angrily, "you know it aint like that but I couldn't just…"

"Couldn't what Sully?" she retorted acidly, raising her chin in defiance, "couldn't talk to me? Couldn't tell me what you were going to do? Tell me Sully, Did you even spare a thought for what our lives would be like with you gone?"

"How can ya ask me that!" he interposed angrily, "'course I did but I …"

"But you did it anyway," she finished, her voice rising as fury brimmed thick in her chest, "maybe it would have been better for all of us if you'd just stay'd gone."

* * *

A stunned silence fell between them as her words reverberated around the homestead that had once glowed with an almost palpable joy, engraining its potency into the very walls of the humble sanctuary. A blistering agony flooded his eyes and unable to meet the wretched gaze that burned into her own, she turned away, her hand rising to cover her mouth in shame.

"You don't mean that."

The words broke from his lips as a fervent supplication and her heart instantly responded, eager to reach out and abate the anguish.

"No I didn't," she whispered wearily, "but I'm so tired and I don't want to argue anymore."

Sensing his approach, she hastily brushed away the pearls of moisture that had meandered unchecked down to her jaw and folding her arms across her chest, turned to face him.

"I need some time."

Her words checked his fervent embrace and dropping his arms he forced her to meet his gaze.

"I need some time away," she explained softly, briefly raising her eyes before retreating to the whirling pattern in the wooden floor, "I'm going home."

"But ya are home," he urged, grabbing her upper arms in desperation and pressing his forehead against hers, "please…"

"Perhaps once I was," she murmured sadly, "but not anymore."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Part 2:**_

Rounding the bend, the homestead came into view and he tugged on the reins, slowing his horse to a halt. Yet his heart seemingly sighed at the sight; the windows, once alight with the gleam of love, welcoming him home, now stood out as dark, inky mirrors amidst the deepening sky. No sound issued from the surroundings, no light step of a son running out to meet him, nor the giggle of a daughter as she reached out from her perch on the step, eager for her daily ride on his back before dinner. And as the solitude enveloped him in an impenetrable mantle, he saw her heading homeward, holding Katie close against her chest with one hand, the leather reins clutched in the other, gently guiding the horses along the familiar path. He saw her pull up outside the darkened, deserted structure, his heart contracting at the momentary despair which filled her eyes as she swiftly surveyed the empty porch, the desolate yard. He watched her painstakingly bend to lower Katie to the ground before raising up her skirt and dismounting from the wagon, the wheel a poor substitute for the broad shoulders that had once supported her slender frame. Grasping the little fingers tenderly, she led the little girl up the wide steps and into the cavernous hallway, barely pausing as the door snapped firmly shut behind them. Yet even as he watched, one by one the lamps burst into life, burnishing the glass panes with a lustrous glow that spoke of warmth and comfort, could he but reach it. And even as the night drew in and the wicks died down, one lamp gleamed on, burning steadfast in the top floor window, a lone beacon of hope.

Shaking away the memories, he breathed in deeply and digging his heels in, spurred his horse onwards.

* * *

She never ate without him; even on those nights when he had crept into the darkened homestead, certain that everyone would have long since been in bed, he had found her there, curled up in a chair by the fire. The table would be set for two, the single candle burnt so low that it was almost out. Tenderly he would rouse her, gently chiding her for waiting. Then the smile would curl her lips and she'd whisper those words against his ear as they assumed their positions, "I love you." 

Side by side they would sit, no longer separated by the length of the table and with every bite, her head would droop further, until it rested against his shoulder, her eyes gradually beginning to succumb to slumber and slipping shut. Yet only when his hand was clasped in hers would she consent to retire and comforting her weary frame against his side, he would guide her up the stairs to peaceful repose.

Tonight there were no candles, no plates. A bare, scrubbed table met his wandering gaze and for a moment he was transfixed by it. He saw her sitting down to dinner with the children, cradling Katie on her lap, passing steaming plates to her right and her left, smiling widely at the friendly banter that echoed around the room. And he saw her glance at his seat, the sight of the empty chair instantly arresting her movements. The smile faded, the fork slowly returned to its rightful place on the plate and without having tasted a morsel, she rose and hurried to the kitchen under pretence of fetching dessert.

His hunger melded into a steely ball of emotion, satiating his body with its leaden weight, and hastily turning down the lamp he retreated upstairs.

* * *

He tossed and turned, unable to settle. The very air seemed poisoned by her perfume, by her memory. She was so near and instinctively he reached for her. Yet no warm hand met his, stilling his restlessness with a tender touch, no loving arms drew him into a protective embrace, to comfort and to love him. The sheets lay cold within his fervent grip, an icy testament to her continued absence. 

Fighting back the sentiment that rose thick in his throat, he rose and feeling for the door, pulled it open. A sheet of darkness covered his vision and with a sudden realisation, he stepped back. The mourning garments had been procured especially, the shapeless blouses and wide skirts drowning her slender figure but unable to wholly disguise the beauty that radiated from her eyes, that shone in the lustrous curtain of her hair. Her heart had been fettered before the world, forced to appear shattered and cold though it longed to rejoice in its completeness. And he alone had been the one to seal the bolt, to turn the key in the steadfast lock and plunge it deep into a fathomless pit of misery.

Struggling to master the remorse that trembled in his limbs, he pushed the wardrobe closed and finally gaining the door he sought, yanked it open to escape back downstairs.

* * *

Out of mere agitation, he had stoked the fire and it now burned quite merrily, casting amber shadows that danced across the homestead walls. Yet he found no solace; his eyes drifted across the empty chairs, the darkened kitchen, the little wooden toys, all littered with memories; memories of careless laughter, of unchecked joy, of her. Sighing softly, his gaze rose to rest on the picture that stood in its place of honour above the mantelpiece. Even now he could feel the warmth of her smile upon his cheeks; she had blossomed with innocence on that sunny afternoon, her youthful radiance casting everything and everyone about her into recession as she delighted in holding him, dancing with him and kissing him. She had given herself to him, trusted him but no sooner had he captured her heart then he proceeded to betray it. Yet even then she had not berated him. Fuelled by unswerving devotion, she had sought him out, healed him and painstakingly restored his shattered confidence, his belief in himself, welcoming him each day with a smile alight with hope and love. 

Often during those long nights he had been forced to spend alone, lying on the damp earth with a ceiling of sheer rock shielding his view of the stars, he had pictured her playing with Katie beside the fire or rocking her gently to sleep in their bedroom and he had grown jealous; jealous of where she was, of what she could do that he could not. Yet looking around at the deserted rooms, he wondered how she had ever borne the solitude, the utter loneliness that seemingly crowded in on him from all sides and with a new found regret, he recalled his actions of the last few weeks. His elation at being home again had known no bounds and if she had been quieter and more reserved that usual he had barely registered its significance. Now, in the wake of her departure, he began to realise. Things couldn't simply be put right, restored to their rightful place like books on a shelf. Something between them had changed, a curtain of unspoken emotion that had crept stealthily between them until they had entirely separated beneath its weight. When at first he had struggled to comprehend the uncharacteristic rage that had edged her words, he now understood. He had been blind to her needs for so long, had failed to recognise her silent pleas to catch her as she began to fall; he had let her down.

Glancing up at the picture again, his eyes began to darken with resolve. The darkness that had enveloped the glowing embers of their hearts needed only a new spark to reignite its light, its passion. Rising from his position, he tenderly caressed the contours of her face before turning away and hastening away to gather his things. For too long on he had lent upon her shoulder, drawing on her strength. Now, it was his time to offer his strength, to bring her back, heart and soul into his loving embrace, to stand and prove that he was a man, the man she had fallen in love with.

* * *

_I don't own any of the rights to the show or the characters...I don't own the title either :)_


End file.
